


And Sin Lovely

by AvaRosier



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, post s6 canon divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 09:28:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8322670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/pseuds/AvaRosier
Summary: He should have known, when the innkeeper could only offer them a room with a single bed, that the universe was conspiring against his fortitude.





	

“ _And you know, I agree to everything:_  
 _I will condemn, I will forget, I will give comfort to the enemy,_  
 _Darkness will be light and sin lovely_.”

-Anna Akhmatova

 

* * *

He should have known, when the innkeeper could only offer them a room with a single bed, that the universe was conspiring against his fortitude. They don't want to leave Winterfell with Rickon and Arya there when the White Walkers pose such a threat, but they must travel to King's Landing to convince his aunt, the Queen, to call her banners North.

There are but inches between their bodies, but under the bedcovers, those inches feel like nothing. Ice and sleet pound the world outside, else he would have slept on the floor. Maybe that wouldn't have been enough still. Sansa squirms again, and her sigh is soft, asking him even if she isn't entirely aware that just breathing could be a question. It’s dark in there, no candles, which is a blessing for Jon when he reaches under the sheet and slips his fingers into her smallclothes. She’s warm as he slides two fingers in between her lips. Just that bit gets them slicked up and he bites back a groan, pulling back just enough to gently rub her nub.

He follows the signposts of her deepening breaths and the jerky cant of her hips, steadfastly ignoring his own desperation. Her first peak isn’t enough and she is nearly in tears when she begs him.

“Please, Jon.”

He gives in and yanks off his clothing, telling her to do the same to her smallclothes. And then he’s rolling over onto her, into her. He does little to keep his weight off her, but Sansa provides no complaint.

 _I can't let go. I can't trust anyone else, and because of it, I can't let go,_ she murmurs, tasting of the wine they'd had with their evening meal. 

So Jon reaches underneath the shift Sansa is still wearing and cups a teat, luxuriating in the silky press of nipple into the palm of his hand. He rides her slow and insistently, winding her up until she digs her nails into his shoulders and releases deep, guttural moans. When she crests again this time, clamping down hard around him and damn near hyperventilating into his neck, Jon asks for no forgiveness as he spills into her. 

He has failed the dead so often, he doesn't dare fail the living as well.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't remember why I deleted this...maybe I was just shy. But, whatever.


End file.
